


Burnt Toast In The Real World

by jinkandtherebels



Series: second chance 'verse [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6014619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkandtherebels/pseuds/jinkandtherebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shisui's first impression of England had not been fantastic, in case anyone was wondering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnt Toast In The Real World

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!! ♥

_Burnt Toast In The Real World_

.

Shisui wakes up to the sound of rain on the window. Which isn’t unusual nowdays, because he’s pretty sure it hasn’t stopped raining since he set foot on English soil.

(That was a month ago, by the way. A month of nonstop rain. It’s probably a miracle he hasn't killed anyone yet. Aren’t people like plants? Don’t they need sun? Seriously, how is everyone in the U.K. not dead yet?)

But Shisui is an incurable optimist, so he’s been told with varying degrees of derision, so he cracks open one bleary eye to look out the window. Maybe the view will be different this time.

Except no, the sky is still iron-gray and smothered by clouds. The bed is still cold and empty next to him. Shisui groans, closing his eyes again.

Just another day in paradise.

.

Shisui’s first impression of England had not been fantastic, in case anyone was wondering. He and Itachi had gotten off the plane, gone through customs, walked out of the airport…and stepped out into a brave new world of gray skies and gray clouds and pouring, _unrelenting_ rain.

Not the most auspicious beginning ever, Shisui’s guessing.

They had stood there like really stupid tourists for a minute. Shisui’d been trying not to get intimidated by the unfriendly place they’d somehow ended up in. (“Somehow” obviously translated to “Itachi was scary smart and Shisui was stupid enough in love to follow him all the way to Oxford”, but you know. Details.) Itachi’s face was perfectly blank.

“Well,” Shisui said eventually, “maybe it’ll stop before we make it to the university.”

“Ever the optimist,” Itachi had replied, dry as their surroundings were _not_. Shisui had made faces at his back once they started walking, because honestly, his boyfriend could be Such a buzzkill.

The real ass-pain being, of course, that Itachi was almost always _right_ on top of being a buzzkill. Thus, the rain did not stop. The rain did, in fact, _increase_ in speed and density; Shisui kept getting hit directly in the eyeball by stray drops. He knew it was probably an overreaction, but he couldn’t help wondering if that was some kind of sign that England didn’t want him here any more than Itachi’s father had.

But Shisui hadn’t let Fugaku, The Terrifying dictate his life, and he’d be damned if he let some snobby other country do the same.

.

And here he is, a month later, having miraculously _not_ drowned while trying to cross the damn street.

Shisui’s still kinda bummed out, though. And it’s not the stubbornly shitty weather or the tiny-ass apartment (or _flat_ , as he figures he’s supposed to call them—like picking up some slang will somehow change the fact that everyone can apparently hear his American accent from a mile away).

It’s not his inability to find a freaking job (see also: the damned American accent; he swears he can see every single potential employer losing interest the second he opens his mouth and it’s starting to really freak him out because holy shit, his savings account is already weeping tears of blood, Shisui can _not_ keep this up for long). It’s not the plain old homesickness that sometimes rears up kind of like a typhoon and kind of like a knife that comes out of nowhere and stabs him in the heart, so that he ends up spending money he doesn't have to phone the States and hear his sister’s voice, or Anko’s, or really anyone’s that doesn’t sound like they eat tea and crumpets for every meal.

It’s not even the fact that he’s been in England for a month and still has no idea what the hell a crumpet tastes like.

It’s the cold bed. It’s the fact that the guy he came all the way out here with—the guy he came all the way out here _for_ —is never actually around.

He gets it, obviously. Shisui’s not a total dipshit—Itachi’s scholarship had covered dorm space for the first semester, so why the hell wouldn’t he take advantage of that? Even if his dad was richer than God a couple months ago, Fugaku’s assets are all tied up now with ongoing lawsuits and a bunch of other legal shit that Shisui’s plebian brain is too delicate to comprehend without exploding into gooey bits.

Shisui’d helped Itachi carry his shit up to the room (seventeen motherfucking flights of stairs later, because apparently one of the perks of attending The Oldest College In The English Speaking World is a built-in cardio workout every time you want to use the goddamn toilet) and all things considered, it was a pretty nice room. Like, he probably should’ve expected that, given the obscene amount of money Itachi is not-paying for tuition, but it was still kind of surprising: surprisingly open, surprisingly not-tiny, and since it was an attic room it had a little pyramid-shaped inlet with windows set in the ceiling and Itachi had been trying to play it cool, you know, but Shisui’s pretty fluent in Itachiese by now and could tell that he was over the damn moon.

Itachi’s where he belongs now, hanging out with all the other geniuses during their classes in big ancient buildings and their formal dinners (which sound terrifying, actually, but Shisui digresses). Shisui’s not about to take that away from him—or worse, make Itachi feel guilty by letting on that he’s, y’know, feeling Maybe A Little Bit lonely. They see each other on weekends and in the evenings sometimes, when Itachi isn’t bogged down by the coursework they’re already piling on, and that’s fine.

Shisui can handle this. He’s not gonna be the clingy boyfriend in this equation.

He’s been telling himself that every day since they got here. Sometimes twice a day. A man’s got to keep sane somehow, right?

.

Shisui groans again and summons the energy to roll onto his back, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. There’s water damage in this ceiling. And possibly sentient life forms growing in his shower. He figures he should probably count himself lucky that he got a shower with this place at all.

It’s still raining. Maybe this is why British people drink tea all the time—they need caffeine instead of blood in their veins so they can function in the Land Where the Sun Doesn’t Shine. Shisui goes ahead and adds that to his list of habits to pick up.

 _Breakfast_ , he tells himself _. Breakfast will definitely make me feel less like smothering myself in this pillow._

After all, he’s got another day of fruitless job-hunting ahead of him.

He hauls himself out of bed and trudges into the itty-bitty kitchen, silently praying he’s still got enough bread to make beans on toast. That’s one thing he’s got to give the English points for, is the breakfast food—beans on bread are a helluva lot better way to wake up in the morning than cardboard cereal sogged up in milk, in his humble opinion.

He’s almost finished heating up the beans when someone knocks on the door.

As a fun aside, Shisui’s brain has long since hardwired itself to interpret any unforeseen human interaction as a sign that he’s fucked up somehow and is about to catch Dante’s own hell for it. Hence:

_It’s the landlord. Oh shit. There was a problem with the account. I’m gonna get kicked out and have to live on the street and since it never stops fucking raining I’m gonna catch pneumonia and die and Natsu’s gonna kill my corpse._

But his panicky train of thought is crashed by a calm voice from the other side of the door.

“Please let me in before I float away of my own accord.”

Shisui almost trips over himself in his haste to answer the door. Itachi enters his ever-so-humble abode with his usual serene expression, a purple umbrella in hand.

(His hair is frizzy, which Shisui finds hilarious, mostly because he knows it secretly pisses Itachi off. Apparently this constant damp can incite even Itachi’s immaculate locks into open rebellion.)

Itachi clears his throat. “I have interrupted your breakfast.”

“’s just beans,” Shisui says with a shrug. “And toast. Y’know. Blending in with the locals, and all. You want some?”

Itachi nods his thanks and then just kind of hovers there awkwardly, because Shisui has reached that illustrious point in his life where he’s too poor to afford chairs.

“Um—you can sit on the bed, if you want.”

That gets him another nod as Itachi goes to sit down. Shisui starts making more toast; it keeps his hands busy, but his mind is already whirring away, a lost cause.

This is awkward. He’s in a room alone with the love of his life and it’s _awkward_.

He realizes with a jolt that he hasn’t actually seen Itachi in person in days.

Shisui turns away from the toaster and looks at Itachi, sitting perfectly upright on Shisui’s bed— _here_ , not walled in by old stone, which is basically all Shisui’s wanted since they got here.

He can’t say _hey, I’ve been kinda miserable, are you kinda miserable too?_ He can’t say _I kind of want to be around you All The Time, is that weird?_ and he _definitely_ can’t say _Sometimes I wonder if you’ve changed your mind about wanting me here and it scares the shit out of me._

“Shisui?” Itachi’s eyebrows are drawing together. “Are you all right?”

Shisui can’t say any of that, so instead he crosses the room (it’s tiny, so it doesn’t take more than a few steps) and bends down to kiss him. Itachi reacts immediately, eyes slipping closed and one hand coming up to brush Shisui’s jawline, and just like that, Shisui stops being worried.

Itachi sighs when they break apart.

“I missed you,” he says.

Shisui blinks. The words “I thought” come out of his stupid traitorous mouth before he can stop them, and Itachi’s eyes narrow.

“You thought what?”

Shisui coughs, sitting next to him. The tips of his ears are getting hot.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Something stupid.”

“I don’t doubt,” Itachi says, too knowing, but he lets it go.

And then, because his goal today was apparently to give Shisui a premature heart attack and Itachi is nothing if not goal-oriented, “I think I am going to move out of the dorms.”

There’s a good thirty seconds there where Shisui doesn’t think he heard correctly.

“You heard me correctly,” Itachi says patiently. Shisui gapes.

“But—why? I mean, I thought you liked all that dusty old shit.”

Itachi huffs a laugh. “I did. I do. The architecture at Oxford is incredible, and their accommodations are generous.”

Maybe it’s just because it’s early, but Shisui is really struggling to understand here. “Then why move out?”

“Because I am beginning to feel…cloistered. As if I am living in a nest somewhere above the real world, and I don’t believe that will be useful experience when I need to live in that real world.”

Shisui swallows. “And where’s it you think the real world is, exactly?”

Itachi glances over at him with a sideways smile.

“Here,” he says.

It sounds so easy when he says it. Shisui’s starting to wonder if maybe that just comes with being a genius—everything starts to look easy after a while. He grins, shaking his head.

“So you’re saying you want to take over my shitty little bachelor pad and steal all my blankets?”

“Yes,” Itachi deadpans, “all _one_ of them. You should be thanking me, Shisui, you are going to freeze to death if you remain here by yourself.”

Shisui considers. “Nah, pretty sure the toxic shower mold is gonna get me first.”

“I will be calling someone about that as well,” Itachi says darkly.

“Yeah, good idea.” Shisui can feel his grin getting bigger. “I mean, if you’re going to be staying here, then I’ve got _plans_ for that shower.”

Itachi rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too. Shisui likes to think he just has that effect on people.

“You are incorrigible,” Itachi says.

“I am in _love_ ,” Shisui corrects him. “Also, I’ve missed the shit out of you. We’ve got, like, weeks of lost time to make up for here. I’m just trying to get a head start.”

“I do appreciate your initiative,” Itachi muses, and pulls him in for another kiss before Shisui can get properly outraged over his Most Unbecoming Sarcasm.

It’s still raining outside; as the kiss deepens he can hear little droplets pattering against the window. And England is still a cold and dreary place that is apparently prejudiced against suave American accents, but as far as Shisui’s concerned, it’s looking more appealing by the minute.

.

(And then of course the fire alarm starts going off because Shisui never actually turned off the toaster, and then there’s just a shitton of black smoke and burnt-bread-smell and the upshot of it all is that they almost get kicked out of that apartment, but it turns out okay, because Itachi blames faulty wiring and glares at the landlord until he gives in.

He even sends a guy to take a look at their nasty shower, free of charge. Shisui’s never been so proud to be a trophy husband in his _life_.)


End file.
